Nine Points Down
by Fic Fairy
Summary: Bartlet For America' are nine points down during their first election campaign, and Joshua Lyman finds a rather interesting way to deal with the resulting stress. Inspired by a throwaway moment in Isaac and Ishmael. Please R&R!


**Nine Points Down**

"Oh come off it, you don't want to invite the law in here." Josh couldn't believe what he was hearing. Yeah, he was under the influence, but all the same, he was incredulous. She had to be joking. "Surely you wouldn't?"

"I don't want to." Abbey replied. She wasn't drunk, but was feeling fairly incredulous herself. She hid it well though, instead just sounding firm, and matter of fact, and to the point."But if your hand crawls any further up my leg I am going to have to call for Secret Service."

And that was the sobering moment, the moment where he looked at his hand, resting on her tanned thigh, dangerously high up, the split skirt of her floor length dress having been pushed aside, and realised with horror exactly what he was doing.

He was trying to fuck the future First Lady of the United States of America.

Well, she would be the future First Lady of the United States, all assuming that they could do something about the nine points they were down.

Those nine points were the problem he thought, as he hastily snatched his hand away. They were to blame for all this.

Those nine bastarding points.

X X X

"We're nine points down."

"Yes, Josh." Donna replied, with a tired sigh, "I heard you the first eight times." She turned to Sam, who was sat nearby, "Nine times nine is eighty one right? Does that mean we're eighty one points down now?"

There were times when Josh though Donna's cute and kooky Wisconsin farm girl sense of humor was a real hoot. Not so on that particular night however when they were nine points down, in an incredibly closely run race to The White House.

"This is serious."

"Yes, I know." Donna smiled at him sympathetically, a gesture that was pure long suffering mother to tantrum throwing child, and just pissed him off further still, "But this is the middle of the night. The pollsters are sleeping, the electorate are sleeping..." she opened her mouth to point out that she'd like to be sleeping but Josh didn't give her the opportunity to say so.

"Sleeping shmeeping." Josh declared, banging his fist on the table in front of him, "Bartlet For America never sleeps."

"And don't we know it." Sam mumbled, pushing earplugs into his ears before pulling a Bartlet For America eye mask over his eyes, "Night Josh. If you're that worried, talk to Leo."

Josh pulled a face, "Leo's sleeping."

Donna snorted, "Lucky him." She saw the death stare Josh gave her and decided it might be better not to get any further into his bad books, "Can I get you some hot chocolate?"

He shook his head despairingly, "I think I need something stronger than that." He got to his feet, pushing past Donna and heading into the kitchen cabin of the campaign plane, helping himself to a handful of Whiskey miniatures and sloshing one into a glass, still stewing over the lack of support he'd received from the other two.

It was nine points. Nine points wasn't a small margin, and it wasn't an exact science. It could technically have been more than nine points. And yet he was the only one who cared.

Fucking amateurs. All of them.

Well, he thought, downing his drink, if they weren't prepared to listen to him, he knew a man who would. He'd take the issue to the top.

X X X

Abbey couldn't believe that she'd ever held the misconception that life as First Lady would be glamorous. She wasn't even there yet, and she'd already worked out that actually, it was going to be anything but.

Take that night. They were flying back to New Hampshire following a fund raiser in... in...?

God, she realized, she didn't have the first clue. It was a blue state, that much she could remember but otherwise she had no idea. One day, one trip, one lot of handshaking, just blended into the next.

Granted, they were traveling in comfort. The Bartlet for America campaign plane wasn't Air Force One, or so she'd been told, but it had charms of its own. Which was just as well given the number of air miles they'd clocked up while on the election trail. That day, well actually, the day before, they'd left New Hampshire at 6am. Flown to the blue state she couldn't remember the name of, met people she couldn't remember the name of and had their photos taken for newspapers she would never read. Then came the fund raiser, before they hopped back on the plane at midnight.

She had questioned why no stopover. There had been an answer. She didn't remember the details. These days, she just did as she was told.

So now, there she was, in the curtained off cabin she and Jed had sequestered as a lounge come office, still in her evening gown, her shoes long since kicked off to try and ease the pain of the blisters they'd caused and Jed's jacket thrown over her, acting as a blanket.

Crazy crazy times.

And just when she thought they couldn't get any crazier.

"Mrs Bartlet?"

"Joshua." She regarded the younger man cautiously. She liked him, and felt his appointment had been a shrewd one, but yet there was something very slightly demented about him. He never stopped. She'd even asked Jed on occasion if he ever slept because she'd never seen it with her own eyes.

"Where's the Governor?" He asked, still stood in the doorway hands behind his back.

Her eyes narrowed. Jed was in another cabin, sleeping after his busy day, and the last thing she wanted was him being disturbed. His health was good at the moment, but she knew that was a movable feast, and one that could change at any minute, and so thought it was important he rested wherever and whenever he could.

Not that she could tell anyone else that. Instead she just smiled, "Will I do?"

Josh's turn to look like he was in two minds, and then, realizing he had no one else to talk to, he nodded.

"We're down nine points."

She wasn't sure what reaction he was looking for so just nodded noncommittally. Obviously being 'down' by anything wasn't good, but the polls seemed to change daily so she wasn't about to slit her wrists over the news.

Her reaction, apparently, was wrong.

"This is serious Mrs Bartlet."

She effected a more serious expression. One of concern. "OK, well you tell me what to do and I'll do it." She thought momentarily, "You think we should kiss more babies tomorrow?"

"BABIES!" Josh declared, clicking his fingers enthusiastically, "Yes! I like it! May I?" He said, indicating the seat next to hers.

Reluctantly she nodded, pushing Jed's jacket to one side, and sitting up, running her fingers through her hair, wanting to give the impression that she was acting more businesslike, even if she was too tired to actually feel it. "So, you want us to kiss babies?"

"I want YOU to kiss babies. Hold babies. I want to soften you. Dr Bartlet is too scary for the electorate."

She groaned out loud, unable to contain it, "We've discussed this." And they had, back during the primaries, when she'd agreed to drop the 'Dr' she'd spent years at med school for the privilege of being able to use, in favor of the allegedly more approachable 'Mrs'. "What else do you expect me to do?"

"I want you to kiss babies, be womanly." he reached into his pocket and pulled out a miniature bottle of whiskey and offered it to her, unscrewing the top and drinking it himself when she declined, "I have to say." He followed up, glancing at her evening dress, "You made a good start tonight. You're working the sexy angle well."

"Really?" Abbey stared at him, eyes raised. She couldn't remember the last time a man who wasn't her husband had called her sexy to her face, "You think so?" She asked, a little bemused but preferring the idea of a sexy campaign to one that focused on her ability to bake cookies and be a good little wife.

Josh nodded, "It's a hot look Mrs B. I think donations got made tonight solely because of your breasts."

It was at that point that Abbey realized he was drunk. In hindsight she wasn't sure why she hadn't realized before, but the breast comment made it pretty hard to miss. Not that she was complaining. Actually, she was a little amused.

She grinned, "Really, well you must let me know who the donors were so I can write and thank them personally."

If he caught on to her playfulness or that she was in actual fact, joking, it didn't show as he nodded, his face full of enthusiasm, "That'd be good."

"I'll kiss the letters." She added, enjoying herself now, "Wearing red lipstick." She watched his response, seeing the confusion in his eyes, as he clearly questioned mentally whether she was playing with him, or being genuine, and in the case of the latter wondering how he could dissuade her without offending her. She let him stew for a moment and then came to his rescue, "But maybe that would be too much sexy eh?"

A look of relief spread across his face, "It might." He pulled another miniature out of his pocket, and downed that in much the same way he'd downed the last one.

She looked at him, puzzled, "How many of those have you had Joshua Lyman?"

He pulled the remainder of his stash from his pocket, and slowly counted them, equally as puzzled, "Well, two in here... or was it three?"

She silently held up two fingers in response, and he started to count again.

"Then there was one in the kitchen... then..." Yet again he counted them, trying to do what Abbey assumed was some very basic mathematics, which in itself answered the question since he seemed to be failing – clearly said answer was 'lots'. He sighed, and looked up at her, "There was some on the way. I was worried about telling the Governor about the 9 points."

"You shouldn't have worried." Abbey pulled the jacket back over herself, deciding that the campaign talk was over, and even if it wasn't if he could be drunk, she could be cozy. "The Governor would have had no response for you beyond a whole lot of zzzz's, at least for tonight anyway."

He glanced at the last two miniatures and poured them into a spare tumbler that sat on a nearby coffee table then shrugged, "Oh well, its a bit late now. I've drunk them. All except these two."

Abbey laughed slightly, "And why do I get the impression they're soon to follow?"

He knocked the drink back in one, "Maybe because they are..."

X X X


End file.
